Chapter 4

‘I’ll never get used to this,’ Buffy thought, watching this world’s Spike talking easily with Willow and Tara. They were deferring to him in the same way that they deferred to Giles, as the three of them went through piles and piles of ancient texts. It seemed that Spike could read Latin and Greek and various strange languages as easily as Giles could. Sometimes even better.

"Sumerian? You read Sumerian?"

He gave her an amused glance. "Learned a lot of odd things over the last century or so. Had plenty of time on my hands. Best thing about being a vampire is that you can keep on learning things forever. To follow knowledge like a shooting star beyond the utmost bounds of time and space."

Which sounded like a quotation from somewhere. Buffy gave him a dubious look.

"Guy never told us he had all sorts of degrees and fellowships before he was turned," said Willow wryly. "Oxford and Cambridge and whatnot. Who’d ha’ thunk it, with the punk look and the Sex Pistols music and all."

"Yeah, well..." Spike muttered vaguely, looking embarrassed.

"Really helps with the research," Willow nodded. "Especially on demon languages."

Another side of him that we’ve been ignoring, Buffy thought. Even Giles hadn’t considered that their Spike might be able to help with research. Why did we never remember that a century old being might have information that could be of use? Because of the Billy Idol shtick? Because of the whole punk thing and the youthful, rebellious attitude? Because we just didn’t want to? Just wanted to discount him in every way possible, not think of him at all? This Spike was turning out to be a revelation, in more ways than one.

All three of them had taken her coming from another time completely in stride. Their attitude seemed to be that if it conceivably could happen, it would and all that had to be done was to sit down and work out the solution. It was infinitely comforting that no one was freaking out, all of them just mundanely settling down to research.

"Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?" Buffy asked as the tomes piled up.

"Oh, yes," said Willow. "It’s definitely a vengeance demon. Tara was able to confirm that when she used the crystals on your aura. Don’t know who made the wish or what the purpose of it is. The way vengeance demons play games, this might not have been intentional."

Tara nodded. "We’re looking for a spell that will allow us to contact D’Hoffryn in Arashmahar. He’s their boss and might be able to tell us the implications of the spell and how to reverse it."

"I used to have a talisman," said Willow, "but I lost it. Otherwise, we could have just given him a chant."

"Oh," said Buffy blankly. "Why don’t you ask Anya?"

All three of them shared an odd glance.

"Um, she isn’t available right now," said Willow. "Sun’s gone down. You must be bored here, Buffy. Why don’t you and Spike go on patrol?"

And stop asking questions. Something else that might disturb the timeline if she knew about it. All four of them, Buffy included, were trying to be as sensitive as they could to any possibility of that and even the most innocuous conversation had its dangers. Taking out vamps looked like it would be a nice, simple occupation without potential minefields.

"Sure," she said, with relief. She had never been any good at research and she was bored.

It was strange to have Spike right beside her as she took her usual route through Sunnydale’s various cemeteries. She was accustomed to just feeling him pace her at the furtherest extent of her senses.

"Why were you always stalking me on patrol?" she asked abruptly.

"Wasn’t stalking. Was just watching your back." He didn’t look at her, just kept scanning the area around them. They were both avoiding each other’s eyes, ever since he had found out she wasn’t his Buffy. Worse, he had been strenuously avoiding touching her even in the slightest.

"Thought I couldn’t handle things?" she snarked, obscurely hurt by that avoidance. She didn’t know why it should hurt, but it did. She felt as if he were making comparisons between her and the other Buffy, and that she came out the loser.

"Everyone can use backup."

He had been trying to help. She had never let herself admit that possibility before, flatly denied it whenever the thought came up. Now she couldn’t turn that convenient blind eye.

He glanced at her briefly, glanced away again. "No one’s invulnerable, Slayer."

Slayer. He had started calling her that again, as if to differentiate between her and his Buffy, to keep that distance between them. She didn’t know about him, but she certainly needed that distance. She wanted him. Now she knew what sex with him would be like and, God! she wanted more. She was so aware of him now that if she closed her eyes even for a second, she would find herself remembering the feel of his skin against hers, the taste of his mouth...And that was bad. That was wrong. Those were forbidden, shameful thoughts.

But they weren’t forbidden to this world’s Buffy. That Buffy seemed perfectly happy with the way things were. And the heavens didn’t come crashing down because a Vampire Slayer and a vampire were lovers. It wasn’t wrong for that Buffy. And even the Scoobies didn’t seem to have any problems with her relationship with Spike.

"Do you have a soul?" she asked suddenly. That would explain a lot, both about Buffy and about the Scoobies.

"Pfft." It was a disdainful expulsion of breath. "No, I don’t have a soul. Don’t need one, do I? I’ve got her. All I need. Don’t have a chip no more either. And I still don’t go around killing people. Because she wouldn’t like it. Soul?" He made a contemptuous gesture. "That’s Angel talking. He’s the one got all of you so freaked out about the soul. He couldn’t control his demon without it. Me? My demon and I get along just fine. Don’t need a soul to keep it in line."

That opened up a whole new vista of ideas. She walked along, pondering it.

A vamp turned up in the shadows and she dusted it. Spike just leaned against a monument, calmly smoking while she worked, then fell into step beside her as she moved on.

He was always on her left. Even if she accidentally took that side, he’d jink around her and position himself determinedly on her left. It was completely unthinking; he wasn’t even aware of doing it. Once she became aware of his actions, she started studying that reflex curiously. When they hit their first gang of vamps, she realized exactly why he kept taking that side.

He stayed to her left because he was left-handed and she right. It was a fighting arrangement that meant they could easily reach and clear a circle some twelve feet across and not get in each other’s way. She found herself modifying her fighting style to allow for him, and he moved smoothly and exactly in step with her. Knowing that arc to be covered allowed her to extend her own effective arc several feet further and to the rear. Any weapons that they might have would extend the arc even further. It was an extemely effective combat technique and increased their fighting capacity exponentially; it wasn’t just that there were two of them now, it was the two of them squared. The vamps had no chance, even though there were more than ten of them. In less than two minutes, they were all dusted.

She found herself laughing. It was intoxicating to have someone beside her who was exactly her equal, who could match and synchronize with her every move. She had never had that sense of partnership before, not even with Angel, who would tell her of a threat, but never actually fight the fight with her. And Riley, with all his drug-enhanced abilities, had never been her match. This was like a dance, everything smooth, perfect, so completely in sync it could have been set to music.

She had had to modify her fighting style. He had not. She saw that he and the other Buffy had done this so often that it was completely automatic; they fitted together like hand in glove. To be able to rely on someone so completely...She had never had that before and now she saw what it could be like, this kind of partnership, and she found herself envying it.

Spike whirled towards her, his eyes vivid with laughter and his arms automatically coming out to catch her up. Then he remembered who she was and backed away abruptly, the light going out of his eyes. Somewhere deep down, it hurt her, that recoil. They had slept together, but now he wouldn’t even touch her.

"I’m the same person, you know," she said in involuntary protest, then flushed hotly, realizing how much she had given away.

"It’s not the same," he said, responding to what she had really said. He made a little, helpless gesture. "Look," he said. "Look. When we made love...I made love to you. You didn’t make love to me."

"I certainly..."

"I felt it at the time, but was too caught up in the moment to understand what felt wrong. You put your hands on my shoulders and let me make love to you. You accepted it. You didn’t make love back. Didn’t touch me, kiss me, take me."

It was true. She had been so shocked that she had accepted, not really responded. It had been sex to her, great sex, but not love. Desire, not...

"My Buffy..." He swallowed hard. "My Buffy loves me."

He turned away and she felt the rebuke in both his tone and his body language. The distinction he made between the two of them was both delicate and profound. She understood suddenly how deeply he felt, by this ‘accept no substitutes’ attitude, and was both chastened and humbled by it.

"I’m sorry," she said. "I’m sorry I’m not her."

"She’ll be back." He gave her a wry smile over his shoulder. "Nothing stops you when you really want something."

She gave a breath of a laugh, not meeting his eyes. "Hope not."

He put out a hand suddenly, not touching her, but bringing her to a halt just by the motion.

"Would you do me one favor?"

"What?"

"When you get back..."

"If," she muttered.

"When," he said flatly, then looked awkwardly down at the ground. "Just...just be a little easier on him. I don’t mean that you have to...to...Just don’t be quite so hard on him. Just don’t hurt him quite so much. He’s kind of a little fragile right now."

She looked at him, alarmed. "You don’t mean that..."

"There were times in that year," he said almost under his breath, not looking at her, "that I almost went out to watch the sun rise."

She was silent for a long time.

"I’m sorry," she said finally. "I’m so sorry."

"Tell him that."

They were almost at the Magic Box. She ducked her head, not looking at him, and hurried forward to open the door before he could do it for her. She did not want him to continue to demonstrate the care he had for her. He had given her too many examples of that already and what she needed now was time to process all these strange, new thoughts and sensations that he was bringing to the fore in her.

They walked into the Magic Box to find Tara and Willow sitting in the center of a circle of candles, the tomes they had been perusing discarded. None of the candles were lit, but their blackened wicks and the faint, pleasant scent of burnt wax that remained in the air suggested that they had been blown out just moments ago. Both Willow and Tara looked exhausted.

"What’s happened?" Buffy demanded at once.

Willow took a deep breath. "We managed to contact D’Hoffryn."

Spike moved forward sharply. "And?"

"We’ve kinda got both good news and bad. Which would you like first?"

"The bad," said Buffy firmly.

"Bad news is that he refuses to interfere with any decision his people make. He says that they’re the ones in the field and they know what’s really going on and he refuses to second-guess them."

"Isn’t that commendable," said Spike in the driest of voices.

Willow raised a reassuring hand. "The good news is that he says the spell’s almost over anyway."

Buffy fell into a chair. "It is?"

"He says don’t make a fuss and try to hurry things along. There’s no point. It won’t be too much longer. The two of you should be switching back any time now."

"Oh, thank God!" Buffy blurted.

"That means that whatever the spell was supposed to do is actually happening or will be happening," said Spike shrewdly. "Did he say what the spell was supposed to accomplish?"

Willow shook her head. "He said it’s none of our business. It’s up to Buffy to figure that out. If she wants to."

Buffy’s brows shot up. "If?"

"He said it’s not hurting anything and might even do some good, so what’s the big deal? Just go with the flow."

"Wonderful," Buffy sighed. "When do vengeance demons cast spells for good purposes?"

"Actually, they can," said Tara. "D’Hoffryn didn’t seem too pleased with what was going on, so that suggests to me that for once the spell really was intended for good."

"My curiosity is never going to let me rest until I find out exactly what it is," said Buffy honestly. "My experience with spells hasn’t been of the good. I won’t be able to relax until I know exactly what this one entails."

***

"Can’t think of any spell that’s had better ramifications for me," Spike sighed and Buffy laughed down at him.

"All the sex you’ve ever wanted, huh?" She pushed him flat on his back and swung a leg across to straddle him.

He lay still under her, letting her do what she wanted, his hands open on either side of his head and his eyes soft with contentment. "I know it’s tough on you, being out of your time and all. But, God, baby, having you like this, I think I’m in heaven."

She touched his face tenderly, ran her palms lightly down the lovely, hard planes of his torso, kneaded his stomach muscles until they quivered under her hands. "Not just the sex, then."

His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes were vulnerable as he looked up at her. "You know it’s not."

She bent forward and kissed him softly. "I know. I love you, Spike."

His eyes blazed. "God. I love you. So much. My heart...it’s so full, it hurts. Feels like it’s going to burst, I’m so happy."

"Let’s see if I can make you even happier."

"What...Ohhh!" he groaned as she took him into her, sliding down upon him until he was completely sheathed in her tight core.

"Don’t move." She interlocked her fingers with his and held his hands still on either side of his head. "I’m gonna drive now. You just lie there. Gonna ride you, baby."

"Till my knees buckle and I pop like warm champagne?"

"Huh?"

"Said that to me once. Sssss." He hissed as she clenched her inner muscles on his hardening cock. "What are you doing?"

She wasn’t moving her hips, was sitting perfectly still on him, her eyes narrow with concentration and her lips smiling. But her inner muscles had started a ripple effect, tightening along his length from tip to base, releasing, then tightening again. He was so thick within her, stretched her so completely, that every squeeze was felt and intensified for both of them.

"Oh, God, Buffy! Who taught you that?"

"We’ve done a lot of experimentation over the years, you and me," she murmured. "You’re a good teacher, you are. But I’m a quick learner. Like to branch out on my own sometimes. This? This is original sin. Like it?"

"Oh, yeah..." His voice died away as his eyes glazed over.

She smiled down at him. He was lying perfectly still in a blissful haze, his lips parted, his hands clenching and unclenching on hers, and his tongue curling in lazy repetitions behind his teeth. He looked absolutely euphoric. She loved giving him pleasure, loved seeing him like this, so lost in her and the sensations she gave him.

After several minutes, the sensation got too much for him and he couldn’t lie still anymore. His hips started to quiver under her, then lifted helplessly off the bed as he strained to get deeper into her.

"Almost there? Hold off a little longer." She kissed his open mouth where the breath was starting to shudder and hitch. His lips moved soundlessly, incapable of speech, and his eyes looked at her in wonder. "Wanna try one more thing."

"Mmm." It was an inarticulate sound deep in his throat.

She raised herself till only the head of his cock remained in her, clenched all her inner muscles till her sheath was closed tight, then bore down on him. The movement forced his cock to have to pry her flesh apart to enter her.

"Oh, Christ!"

"Like it?"

"Jesus!"

His hands tore free from her grip and clenched bruisingly hard on her hips, pulling her down hard on him as he thrust up into her. She laughed and repeated the movement over and over again.

"Can do different speeds too."

She rode him faster and faster till his throat arched back and his hips bucked helplessly against her, the two of them slamming into each other, losing track of everything but sensation. She felt his cock pulse within her just as her own orgasm hit with stunning force. She fell forever, fireworks going off in her brain.

She came back to herself to find him holding her fiercely tight and whispering love words into her hair.

"You’re incredible," he said and she laughed breathlessly against his collarbone.

"Love you."

"Oh, Buffy!" His face pressed hard against hers. "I don’t know how I can stand having to lose this."

"You won’t lose it. You’ll have it. It’ll just take a little time."

His breath shook against her skin. "No. No. You’ll go and everything will be back the way it was and all of this will seem just some mad hallucination I dreamed up just because I wanted it so much."

She stroked his face, his hair, kissed his mouth again and again. "But it’s not a dream. Feel me. Taste me. See?"

"I won’t be able to believe it once you’re gone," he said desolately.

She held him as tightly as she could, their cheekbones pressing painfully together. "Don’t dust. God, don’t dust. If you dust here, I won’t have you with me there."

"You won’t know. You won’t care."

She looked at him with terror. "Spike. You don’t understand. The next few years are going to be so hard. I need you with me. I need you. If you’re not there, I don’t think I can get through them."

He frowned, puzzled. "Sure you can. You’re the Slayer. You..."

"You told me once that all Slayers have a death wish." She saw understanding start to dawn on his face. "Certainly they have a short expiration date. Because they don’t have anything to live for except duty and obligations. Even family and friends can only take one so far. Loneliness..."

"She doesn’t want me."

"She will. She will. Believe that."

"I believe it when you say it." His lips tightened. "I don’t know how long I can continue to believe it when you’re not here."

She could see what he meant--how this could all seem a dream, a fabrication, once she was gone. He needed something tangible and yet the whole thing, all of this, was so intangible...

She sat up suddenly, looking down at her hands, at the rings on her fingers. The one on her middle finger had an unusual design: three strands of plain-gold, red-gold and white-gold braided together. She took it off and held it out to him.

"Will this fit on your finger?"

His brows rose. Then he took it from her and tried it on. It fit on his pinky. It looked strange on his big hand next to the silver rings that he was already wearing, very light and feminine beside those heavier, more masculine ones.

"See? Plain enough for you to wear, but still a woman’s ring. Not something you’d get for yourself. Something you were given. Is that tangible enough, do you think? For you to remember that this really happened?"

He rubbed at the ring with the ball of his thumb, pressing it into his flesh, then looked up at her and smiled. "That’s tangible enough."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "I couldn’t bear to lose you, Spike. Couldn’t bear to lose the love, the partnership, everything that we have. And we have so much. Don’t let it go. I can’t make it without you. I love you. Believe that. I, Buffy Summers, 2010 or not, love you. Believe it."

"I believe it," he said and crushed her to him so tightly that she felt their bones would fuse together.



TBC